Page 157 of A Dead Man's B-Side
“Where did you say you went to high school?”
She sent me a playful smirk before answering, “I didn’t.” Does she and Evander wordspare as foreplay? It was a mean thought, and she was being kind and looked smart–I could at least give her the benefit of the doubt. “But I digress, I went to a high school in a small town out in Utah. Pretty boring if you ask me, but I found ways to keep busy.”
I hummed, nodding along.
Charles, for the first time since I’d met him, spoke. His voice wasn’t scratchy or sickly as I expected it to be. He sounded exactly as I imagined a healthy fifteen-year-old boy would. “How did you meet Evander?”
For the first time since we’d sat down, Wolf made a sound, albeit it being a scoff. It was low as he shook his head, and Lacy paused, but when he still didn’t utter a word, she continued, thoughhesitantly, “We uh… met at a bar, actually–quite a seedy one at that–in California, where I was studying. Everything is history after that.”
Charles let out a hum of acknowledgement, glancing to Wolf every few moments, almost as if in approval.
“So… you like…willinglychose Evander. Like… out of choice?” I asked, not exactly in a questioning tone.
Charles let out a short laugh before coughing, trying and failing to hide it. But I grinned when Evander tilted his head towards me, looking as if he were biting his tongue.
Lacy smiled, amused. “Yes. No reserved shotgun wedding over here. He’s alright.”
I nodded slowly, lifting my fork to let the piece of seasoned meat I’d cut up meet my tongue.
Wolf ran a hand over his mouth as if forcing himself to remain silent against the words shoving against his sealed lips.
We fell back into silence and continued to eat. The sound of cutlery clicking around the room.
Finally, he placed his knife and fork down softly and spoke. But it wasn’t the words I’d expected at all.
“So, when do you piss back off from whence you came?”
Charles choked on his cup of water, and Lacy lifted her head and blinked with wide eyes at the abrupt words.
Evander slammed his cutlery down, and I inwardly cringed, being so close. “I understand you may be angry, but that is no way to address–”
That seemed to break the performative pleasantries we were all acting under, the underlying hostility ultimately rushing to the surface.
Wolf let out a cruel laugh. “Angry? You think Imaybe angry? Really. Four years, Evan. Four goddamn years.” He held up four fingers as if to emphasize his words. “Angry doesn’t even begin to explain how I feel. Charles,” Wolf shouted, pointing to the younger brother sitting silent and tense next to him, “has been alone with nobody but Barthalow and mother to keep him company. And since this summer, he’s been entirely alone. Where were you? Huh? Where wereyou?”
His voice had gotten louder as he reached the end, and I lowered my fork before intertwining my hands on my lap, at a loss for how to act in a delicate situation such as this one. An uncomfortable awkwardness fell over me.
Wolf was breathing raggedly, fury burning in his eyes, and I quickly regretted sitting in between the warring brothers.
Evander’s face remained like that of a poker player, devoid of any bluffs. “I hope you will save this issue for a more private setting. The rest of the Kingsley family will be arriving tomorrow.”
Wolf sat back, scoffing and watching his brother as though he were looking at someone he didn’t recognize. Someone he didn’t know. A stranger.
I couldn’t imagine coming home to a stranger living in your house, living in your brother’s body.
Suddenly, Wolf threw his napkin against his plate and scraped his chair back. “I’m leaving. I’ve suddenly lost my appetite."
No one spoke, and the room descended into a deafening silence. Lacy didn’t dare lift her head from where she was hyper focused on the plate in front of her, but I caught the teardrop that fell and disappeared into her soup.
Charles, surprisingly, stood as well, looking around the table tentatively. “I’ll go and… check on him.”
He made himself scarce rather quickly, and then there were three. Lacy was still silently crying, and Evander looked as though he wanted to flip the table entirely. His hand fisted his own napkin tightly within his palm, choking it as if it had offended him.
As if a scene out of a murder mystery novel, the plot twist arrived.
Thaddeus moving into the dining room like a man on a mission.
I let slip a surprised squeak, and he paused under the threshold, sensing the tense atmosphere he couldn’t cut into with a knife if he tried. “What happened here? Did a bomb go off–Alexandr? What are you doing here?”
